


The Laws of Love

by onepiecehime



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28420932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onepiecehime/pseuds/onepiecehime
Summary: You just finished your last class of your undergrad career before taking the next step to law school, but your capstone professor, one silver-haired, smut-reading cocky bastard, decided to make your life a living hell in the process, while discovering who you are in the mean time.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Reader, Jiraiya/Tsunade (Naruto), Namikaze Minato/Uzumaki Kushina
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh so I'm going to update my other work, but I had a very stressful semester and AUs are how I'm processing all of it. Enjoy

You watched anxiously as your professor handed back your graded essays and research projects. This was your capstone project and you just really needed to pull off an A to get into the law school of your choice, which at this point you were settling for Columbia University. Not to mention the grades needed to pull a scholarship from there. This typically wouldn’t have been an issue, but this semester had truly been one from hell. The group that you were assigned barely showed up for class, not to mention the project meetings that you had held. At the beginning of the semester, you figured you would just deal with yourself, but then it spiraled out of hand, and halfway through you found yourself pleading the very professor who was about to drop off the graded rubric at your desk.

  
The silver haired man gave you a lazy look, that still somehow looked smug as hell. He put the rubric on your desk, facedown, leaving you with more anxiety than you had before. Out of your four years at NYU, you had never experienced a poli-sci professor who was as much as a ballbuster as Professor Hatake. Every other professor that you had in your previous classes had been charmed by your enthusiastic, but serious ways, as they had always been captivated by your riveting debates and thought-provoking case studies and reports. You were a favorite among the tenured old men, and spirited middle-aged women who carried their NPR tote bags filled with their organic lunches purchased from Wholefoods and tennis shoes for their Soul Cycle class after their lectures had been finished. You had been invited to Dean dinner after Dean dinner, consistently praised throughout the Poli-Sci department, and you always had first dib of internships every summer vacation, when you would also delicately balance summer classes as well. Your previous professors practically fought for the opportunity to write your letters of recommendation. Each of them wanting to cheer you off to Harvard Law School. But Professor Hatake was the exception to the rule. Brand new, just out of grad-school, and the man who couldn’t have been more than four years your senior, despised you with everything he had.

When you first signed up for your capstone, you thought nothing of it. He had no reviews on Rate My Professor since he was new and you couldn’t find any real-world experience on him, so you figured your last class of your undergrad career was going to be a breeze. What a joke. You walked in on the first day of your last spring semester, of your last undergrad class to find this man, reading an erotic fiction novel at his lecture podium. You practically gaped at him as you went up to introduce yourself. Thoughts of the ‘Me Too’ movement running through your head. He had given you a lazy once over as you cleared your throat to get his attention that day, holding your hand out to shake his. He just stared at it. “Can I help you?” he simply said. He sounded bored, and as if you were a nuisance. Typically, when you had done this in the past, professors were impressed by your professionalism, and here was this man, who was no older than 26, staring at you as if you had interrupted his lover confessing to him. It had gone downhill from that day. From him consistently shooting down the points that you would make during lectures, to him not calling on you at all when you politely raised your hand, to putting you in the group of students who had only appeared in class once or twice, to denying you when you had gone to him for help when the group was not assisting with the final project. You were just ready to get this class over with and to never see this man again in your life. The thought about the affects your grade would have on your GPA swirled in your head, as you knew that you only had a small range of law schools in the New York City area.

You took a breath and flipped over the paper to see a big fat ‘-C’ staring back at you with red marks all over the rubric telling you exactly what you had done wrong. You sighed, and then mustered up your courage to drag yourself to his office once the allotted period had ended. He didn’t even send the class off with any encouraging words. A class filled with the new political figures and law makers of the world, and he had nothing to say other than a quick “see ya”. It infuriated you to no end. How did this man end up teaching at one of the best universities on East Coast?

You knocked on the mahogany door to his office and heard an annoyed “come in”. You put on your best fake smile and walked through the door; your eyes immediately drawn to the stack of erotica on his desk. It killed you to not rolled your eyes at the sight, but you resisted.

“Good afternoon Professor Hatake, I was hoping I could speak to you before you finalized grades” you said, trying to not sound sickly sweet.

“Oh, don’t worry Miss. L/N, they’ve already been entered and finalized,” he stated, not even sparing you a glance up from whatever trash he was partaking in.

  
“Well in that case, let me just get to my point. I don’t think the grade you gave me is fair. Especially seeing how I did the entire project alone, and I spoke to you about my concerns around midterms,” you said, dropping your act.

“These all sound like excuses to me Miss. L/N. You think as a lawyer you’re always going to have a team of paralegals there to help? Do you think as a Senator or United Nations representative that you’re always going to have interns to do your work for you? Do you think the professors at Harvard will be swayed so easily by your flirting and charming antidotes?” This was the most words you had ever heard him speak to you at one time. Your jaw dropped at the sheer audacity that this man contained in the one beauty mark below his chin then you had in your whole body. You breathed in and recomposed yourself. He was still reading his book and couldn’t be bothered to look up.

“Professor. I think if you took a look over my academic history you would see that I’m a very diligent student. Cum Laude and all, and this is our ONLY grade for this class, and it’s my last class of undergrad,” you all but spat.

“That’s the point of a capstone, Miss. L/N. I’m not changing any grades, and that is final It’s in the syllabus. You can explain to the admissions board at Harvard why you got a C in your capstone and hope that they’ll be charmed by your shoe-licking tendencies or perhaps you can continue to enjoy the riches of whatever older man you have swindled into an engagement and forgo law school altogether.” You could feel the imprint of your perfectly polished nails digging into the palm of your hand as you struggled to not scream at this man. He was referring to the princess cut diamond that sat delicately on your left ring finger. Easily a 2-carat nestled in a rose gold band. You let out an angered and defeated breath before you stood up from the chair that sat opposite of the subject of your anger at the moment.

“Fine, but a few words of advice Professor. Look at your students when they have the gall to speak to you about personal matters” you were almost out the door.  
“Well, why should I bother when there isn’t much to look at,” he said matter of factly as he turned a page in his book. You yanked the heavy wood door open and almost ran into a curvy woman about your age, another one of Hatake’s fan girls, probably coming to whisk him away now the semester was over. You shot him one last glare over your shoulder “It’s Columbia Law School, you asshole, take some time to learn of your student’s goals instead of being so self-absorbed for once” you sneered and pushed past the tacky look woman in front of you. As you walked away you heard her say something along the lines of “Now that you’re no longer my professor, what about a drink?”  
You, yourself would be needing one of those tonight as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter twoooo. Enjoy lovelies

After the day was said and over and Kakashi managed to ward off the undergrad girl who had been trying her hardest to make her way into his pants all semester, he gathered up his belongings and prepared to leave his office until the summer semester began. As he went to close and lock his door, he saw a brown leather Louis Vuitton sitting on the ground by the chair opposite of his desk where students would sit in and plead their case. Much like a particular student that stood out in his mind. The bag was obviously real, which is how he was positive that it did not belong to the tacky undergrad who just begged him for a night out on the town. He sighed as he shuffled through the things, looking for the wallet and the address of the owner. He pulled it out and looked over the ID. He let out another sigh. He was hoping this was a student he could forever put behind him but as he was finding out, fate would not be that kind. He knew that the lost and found office was closed for a month until the summer semester began, and from the address that was listed on the ID, he figured that it would be quicker and cheaper to just return the bag to the annoying owner rather than mailing it across the city. Then perhaps she would feel somewhat remorseful about her harsh comments from earlier. Spoiled and bratty were the only two terms that came to mind when it came to you.

62nd Street.

The Upper East End, with a prime view of Central Park. Just who exactly was this girl marrying that got her that kind of view. He had noticed the large rock on your hand when you gripped the textbook for the class with it and presented your right hand for him to shake on the first day of class. He noticed that you were classically beautiful, but that is what unnerved him the most. He had figured that someone with that rock, and your good looks, had found some Financial District trader to make bed with. He didn't understand why you had even bothered finishing school. He figured that the whoever it was that you were marrying had children from a previous marriage, as you were always running out of class five minutes early to ensure that you had made it to ballgames and PTA meetings early.

He knew all this from the other professors who endlessly made excuses for you whenever he spitefully brought up your name. It did bring a sense of sick joy to him when he saw your MetroCard and credit cards nestled in your wallet, meaning that you most likely had to walk home, from Greenwich Village, all the way to 62nd St. He knew that your brown Mary Janes would have not been comfortable on that journey and that your brown tweed pencil skirt that endlessly teased him each time you wore it, didn't have a lot of give, so the walk home for you would have been a long and uncomfortable one. He hopped onto the R train heading north and prepared himself for your apologies, he felt even more smug as he transferred to the W train and as he stepped out of the station onto 5th Ave, smelling the fresh air that Central Park was able to provide. A quick walk and he made it to your apartment. A full five stories tall and it seemed that it had a rooftop terrance.

He had never fully dove into why he distasted you so much, perhaps it was the fact that you were taking the place of a more deserving student who was not just going to get her law degree and then drop out, maybe it was the dark academia outfits, that despite their casual looks, were most certainly designer, maybe it was the way you had tried to outsmart him in all his lectures, maybe it was the way you were way too enthusiastic for a about a career that would eventually steal your soul, or perhaps it was the way that he had barely been able to keep his eyes of you for the entirety of the 16 weeks that you sat, right in the front of the lecture hall, beautiful intelligent eyes always trained on him and the subject matter of the day. He shrugged that though away as he pressed the doorbell, as the door begin to open he prepared a snarky comment for you and how you weren't even intelligent enough to remember your designer bag on the way out of his office. At the last split second he realized that you probably had staff to open the door.

He then readied himself for the butler, or whatever staff you may have. What he wasn't expecting was a child, almost teenager, with jet black hair, and black obsidian eyes, who bore a look of sheer boredom that could compete with his own. Kakashi blinked a few times at the pre-teen.

"You're not Naruto or Sakura" the kid drawled out. Manners were obviously missing, but that was to be expected when you were raised across the street from Central Park. Shame on you for not teaching the child better, was all he thought. The kid must of been your future stepson.

"Um. No. Is your... mom here?" he asked unsure as to what to call you.

"My mom?" the kid questioned back, an eyebrow raised and a look of disgust now replaced the look of boredom that he held earlier. Kakashi cursed himself, of course the kid wouldn't call you mom.

"Step-mom maybe?" Kakashi held your bag up for the kid to see.

"Oh. Yeah, hold on. Y/N! THERE'S SOMEONE HERE FOR YOU" the kid shouted. That's when Kakashi saw you decided the staircase, in nothing but a white tank top and a pair of gray sweatpants that were way too large for you.

"Coming coming" he heard you call back. Your eyes finally met as you descended the last stair into the foyer. Your e/c eyes then darted to Sasuke in a quick glare. " Sasuke, what have I told you about answering the door for strangers, idiot?" you asked through clenched teeth.

"I thought it was Naruto or Sakura" he fired back shooting you a glare as tough as his own.

"Besides, he has your purse, maybe YOU should't leave your bag with sketchy strangers." Your eyes darted back to Kakashi as he stood in the door way holding the bag in question. He noticed tattoos that danced across your chest and upper arms, as well as the cleavage that your tanktop and sports bra did a terrible job at hiding. You were holding a class of red wine and he could hear the sound of some k-pop band playing in the background. Your hair was thrown up into a messy bun on top of your head and your face was clean from the tidy looking makeup that you typically sported. He had never seen in this form, and it did not sit well with him. If he had thought you were attractive before, this just amplified those thoughts by ten-fold.

"Um... thanks..." you murmured as you took the leather bag from him looking sheepish. "I bet that walk from Washington Square to here was a killer" Kakashi said with a smirk. "What? Oh... no. I called an Uber on my phone. It's a Friday, I never take the subway on a Friday" you explained as you dug through your things to make sure everything was there. "Besides I didn't even notice it was missing. Probably because I was still reeling over you being the rudest person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. And that's saying a lot seeing as I've lived in New York my whole life," you released a laugh at the last statement. You seemed more relaxed and like the whole thing had already rolled off shoulders at that point. Kakashi figured it was because of the wine, or maybe you didn't want to seem angry in front of the kid, who seemed to have his own anger issues going for him.

"Well you might want to be more careful. I don't know if your professor at Harvard would be kind enough to cross Boston to return a bag." You finished digging through the contents and spared him a glance.

"I told you, I'm going to Columbia. Geez you really don't listen do you? Probably too busy looking at Miss. Boobs when I was leaving your office" you practically hissed. "Professor Sarutobi made it sound like you would be attending Harvard this next academic year" Kakashi said ignoring your other comments. 

"Yeah things change," you said as your eyes softly drifted to the brooding teen that was watching the exchange, his arms crossed defensively across his chest.

"Miss. Y/N!" you heard a cheery voice from the sidewalk that was behind the grumpy professor that occupied your door space. You peaked over his shoulder to see a young pink haired girl, a blond boy, probably around the same age as the Sasuke kid, who was slightly shorter than the girl and an older gentleman with white hair walking with the two. They both had bookbags on their shoulders and wore cheery smiles.

"Sakura! Naruto! Are you guys ready for the end of the school year sleep over?" your mood perked upon seeing the two children, as well as Sasuke's. Kakashi stared, bewildered by the interaction and confused about your previous comments about things changing.

"Yeah! Can we order ramen?" the blonde boy asked.

"You idiot. We decided on pizza at lunch remember?" the pinkette said hitting the boy called Naruto. You pushed past Kakashi to grab their things from them, and you pushed Sakura's bag into Sasuke's arms.

"Go put that in my room," you demanded.

"Why? It's my sleepover," Sasuke shot back boldly, obviously not fearing any authority that you may of had over him.

"You really think I'm going to let you sleep in the same room as your girlfriend? No, I'm not stupid. Now go put the bags up. She can sleep with me" Sasuke shot you one last glare before he started climbing the stairs, his ears red from your comments and a scowl set on his face.

"Fine. MOM." he emphasized the word and you rolled your eyes. You directed your attention back to the older man that had kindly walked with the children.

"Jiraiya! Thank you so much for walking with both of them!" Kakashi watched as you flashed the man one of your signature smiles, not even embarrassed about the fact that you were standing on 62nd Street in sweats.

"Not a problem sweetheart! Thanks for hosting this year! The kids like you better anyways" the man let out a loud bout of laughter, "Oh and the wife sent me this to give to you, and I put my new manuscript in the bag for if you ever get some alone time, and edit of course" he added with a wink as he handed you a bottle of red wine and a gift bag. Kakashi's eyes knit together in confusion and then it was like a light went off in his head as his eyes widened at Jiraiya.

"Are you the author of the Make-Out Paradise series" Kakashi boldly asked the man.

"I am! And Y/N is my editor and the best nanny this side of the Hudson" Jiraiya laughed, impressed that the younger man recognized him.

'Nanny?' Kakashi thought, but soon forgot that thought.

"Sir, I'm a big fan" he told Jiraiya. You should have seen this coming when you saw all of Jiraiya's books sitting on Hatake's desk, but you didn't think anyone would openly admit to reading such things, but here you were.

"And who might you be?" Jiraiya asked Kakashi, suddenly suspicious.

"He's just a professor of mine" you quickly said before Jiraiya could insinuate anymore.

"Oh, the asshole?" Jiraiya quickly replied. You stifled a laugh and the look of terror crossed Kakashi's face. One that was horrified to learn that his favorite author was close to his least favorite student, and then another look of realization when he thought about the fact that you had read and edited each of the books that he had held so near and dear to his heart. He was speechless as he gawked at the bag that contained the manuscript for the next book in the series. You smirked in triumph. Little wins.

"Yes, that would be the one. He's leaving now anyways. Have a good evening Professor" you said, offering Kakashi a sickly sweet smile. Sasuke walked down the stairs and rejoined the group at the door.

"I hid your collection of smut so that Sakura wouldn't see it" he huffed. Your face froze at the sentence that the moody teenage boy huffed out.

"Hahaha, he's kidding. It's more books for me to edit," you told the two silver haired men that starred at you.

"No. They are the older ones" Sasuke shot back. "You know what, why don't you go ahead and order the pizza Sasuke" you said handing him your phone and wallet. He smiled and told Naruto and Sakura to follow him.

"Well with that, I'll be off. I'll be here on Sunday to pick them up" Jiraiya said with a laugh at your red cheeks. Kakashi turned to you as the man happily walked off.

"You have to let me read that manuscript" he said, his eyes wide.

"Oh this one?" you held up the bag with a smirk, "No, I really don't think I do. Professor." You added his title as an extra emphasis to remind him of his previous sins during the last 16 weeks.

"Y/N," he said, almost pleading, "I'll do anything."

"Tis a shame those grades are finalized" you said as you went to close the door.

"Wait wait wait! I'm sorry I was cruel to you this semester. We can talk about this!" he said as he stopped the door from closing.

"Ohhh now that you want something from me, I'm suppose to listen? I know you think I'm stupid, but surprise, I'm not. Have a good night Hatake" you said as the door shut right in his face.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be an update to this soon and it shouldn't be more than 5 chapters if I have anything to do with it.


End file.
